Chapter 294
Wake sits stiffly beside me, the hard edge in his jaw the only sign of how tense he really is. He hasn’t touched his food since he dropped the Leviathan bomb, and I can’t blame him. The Commander watches him with that same flat, unreadable expression, but his hands—resting like coiled anchors on the stone table—haven’t moved either.
The silence stretches until it’s almost unbearable.
Then Wake speaks, voice low, controlled.
“Shoal believes the gods betrayed Leviathan. That they sealed him away not because he was dangerous, but because he gave us something they feared.”
Loona frowns. “Gave us something?”
“A substance called Darklite—unbridled potential borne from Leviathan’s own body,” Wake says. “He believes the ancient ancestors used to advance themselves enough to threaten the strongest of them—their rulers that would become the gods. Because Leviathan was the one who created and gifted the Darklite to the Enkians the gods turned on him, stealing his power and sealing him away.”
Axel blinks. “Wait, wait—hold on. Are we seriously discussing bedtime stories? Leviathan, the World Eater, is real?”
“Yes,” I say, grimacing. “And Shoal wants to be the first face he sees when he wakes up.”
Axel leans back, arms folded behind his head. “Is that all?”
Wake doesn’t even crack a smile. “He’s been harvesting Darklite, quietly, over years. He’s been stockpiling it.”
The Commander narrows his eyes. “To what end?”
I lean forward. “To wake Leviathan. Shoal thinks if he can revive him, he can forge an alliance.”
“An alliance.” The word lands like a stone.
“Yes,” Wake says. “Shoal believes Leviathan isn’t inherently malevolent. Just misunderstood. If he’s awakened properly, with the right… guidance, Shoal thinks he’ll share with him the secrets of creation.”
Axel lets out a low whistle. “Right. So not insane at all.”
The Commander’s lip curls. “How does your brother plan to guide the Father of Darkness? Does he hope to reason with the oldest force of destruction in existence?”
“No,” Wake says bluntly. “He plans to control him.”
Silence falls again, and this time it’s heavier, sharper.
“Using what?” the Commander asks, already disbelieving.
Wake meets his gaze evenly. “Human technology developed by his partner and benefactor, a woman named Lily St. Cloud. She’s created a machine that has the ability to control Enikan minds, including those of Elder blood.”
The Commander’s fist slams into the table, hard enough to crack the coral beneath it.
“Enough!” he roars.
The room around us trembles.
“I will not sit at my own table and listen to any more of this preposterous fantasy! To say nothing of the insult you bring by accusing your own brother of consorting with humans to enslave the will of an ancient god.”
“Sir,” I say, firm but respectful, “I can assure you, everything my mate says is true.”
The Commander doesn’t look at me. “Then I mourn the fact that you are both deluded beyond reasoning,” he mutters.
Loona flinches. Not visibly. But I feel it in the way her hand falters against her goblet. Her eyes find Wake’s, full of sorrow.
Wake doesn’t flinch. He’s been expecting this.
The Commander rises from his seat, the movement stiff with suppressed fury.
“You speak of treasonous ideas and dangerous alliances, and you expect me to listen as if it were strategy?” he says coldly. “You come here after years away, dragging a human with you, making wild claims about your brother, disrespecting our gods—”
“They aren’t claims,” Wake says, his voice suddenly sharp. “They’re warnings.”
“Warnings without proof,” the Commander snaps. “You sound like a zealot.”
“And you sound like a coward.”
That one lands.
The silence turns knife-edged.
“I see,” the Commander says. “So this is what you’ve become. A rogue. A romantic. A storyteller.”
“I’m trying to protect our people,” Wake grits out.
The Commander’s face doesn’t change. “I do believe that I was wrong. You are not fit to be Dagon’s Heir.”
Loona gasps softly.
“Mate or no mate,” the Commander adds, eyes flicking to me. “It doesn’t change what I see before me.”
I want to speak. To stand. To scream. But I feel Wake’s hand close around mine, and when I look at him, he just shakes his head. Once.
“Shoal’s already halfway through his plan,” Wake says. “He’s building an army—he’s using Darklite to enhance them, mutating them. If we don’t stop him—if we don’t prepare—”
“You’ve done enough,” the Commander cuts in. “I trust you still remember your way around the palace. You’ll find quarters prepared.”
“I’m not finished,” Wake growls, standing.
“I am,” the Commander replies. “I will not be baited into another one of your petty feuds with Shoal.”
He turns, his cloak sweeping behind him like a shadow. Loona stands slowly, lingering. Her eyes are wet now, shimmering like the algae lanterns.
She meets my gaze, then Wake’s.
Then she’s gone too, disappearing into the cold shadow her husband leaves behind.
The doors close.
The hall is quiet.
And Wake sits back down, hands balled so tightly that they’re trembling against the edge of the table.
Axel exhales, long and low. “That went about as well as could be expected.”
Wake lets out a bitter laugh. “Maybe slightly better. No one tried to stab me.”
Axel raises an eyebrow. “Yet.”
Wake leans forward, eyes shut. “I have to make them see.”
“You will,” I tell him. “Because we’re not wrong. And whether he believes it or not—your father’s going to have to pick a side.”
Wake opens his eyes, gaze finding mine.
And I can see it there.
The fire.
Still burning.
Still ready.
So I hold on tighter.
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